


Pebbles on the Beach

by paceisthetrick



Series: Drabbles for Shells [1]
Category: No Night is Too Long (2002)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paceisthetrick/pseuds/paceisthetrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim tells Ivo he is leaving him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pebbles on the Beach

 

 

“I’m leaving you.” I said it robotically, I’d been rehearsing it for so long.  “When we get off the ship on Friday, I am leaving you. It’s all over.”

He turned his head. “ ** _What_** _?”_

“I’m leaving you. This is the end. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

His face registered the blow. He was white, stunned, unable to orient himself. “Look at me,” he said quietly after a minute.

I did. I could hardly look away, I was appalled by his face. He looked like a cadaver.

“I’m not hearing this. You didn’t say it.” He took hold of both my arms, challenging me to defy him. His fingers dug painfully into me.

“Please,” I said. “Not here. People will see us.”

“Do you think I care what people think?”

“Let’s go somewhere and talk,” I urged. I didn’t want to make a scene. I didn’t want people to think Ivo and I had a relationship, that I had had a relationship with a man.

He followed me away from the shore. We climbed the path in silence until we were well out of sight, high up on the cliff.

“Why did you say what you did?” he demanded.

“It’s true,” I felt my courage ebbing. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I am leaving you.”

“What’s brought this on?” He was genuinely confused.

I couldn’t reply.

“Answer me!” he commanded. “Why the sudden change? Do you no longer love me?”

I wanted to tell him but my heart was pounding and I couldn’t catch my breath.

“I see,” he said quietly. “You never loved me.”

“Must we dissect everything?” I managed.

“Yes. I asked you why you ceased to love me and you told me, not in words but with your expression, that you had never loved me. So I have to wonder about your behaviour these past two years. Why did you touch me that first day? And then come to my office, to my house? Why did you say you wanted to be mine and only mine? Was this all a game to you?”

“I don’t know,” I said miserably.

“You don’t know why you threw yourself into a love affair that you apparently weren’t interested in in the first place?”

“I -- ” I would have just repeated my ‘I-don’t-know” if I had finished the sentence. Instead I stared at the ocean, thinking whimsically that Ivo was right, that this was someplace I would want to return to time and again.

He sighed and appeared to reflect on my apparent confusion. And then he asked abruptly, “Have you got a new lover?”

I decided honesty was the best way to get a clean break. “Yes.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“Not ‘him’. Her.” I needed to make certain he understood that I was not like him, I wasn’t gay and wouldn’t have a relationship with another man.

“ ‘Her’?” he repeated with an ugly laugh. I thought he was sneering at me again for wanting women. “Another one of your flings? Another Emily or Suzanne?”

“No,” I said coldly. “It’s someone I love. It’s not a fling at all. I haven’t even slept with her. But I love her. And I am going to be with her.”

“Really?” He paused to light a cigarette and though his hands were steady, I knew he was shaking inwardly. It was a sure sign of stress. He never smoked when he was happy. “Does she know about me?”

“No!” I was horrified by the very thought. Dear God, what if Isabel found out about Ivo. What would she think of me?

“Where did you meet her? I can’t imagine it’s one of the charming ladies on board. Or is it perhaps the scullery maid? That would be to your liking, eh?” And he laughed unpleasantly again, exhaling a large amount of smoke.

“Of course not.” Why did he always insult me when things didn’t go his way? He would flare up and then apologize for overreacting. I was sick of it.

“Then -- ” An odd gleam came into his eyes. Most people’s eyes are opaque. Not Ivo’s. You could tell exactly what he was thinking when he looked at you. “In Juneau? When you were there alone?”

“Yes,” I said defiantly.

“What’s her name?” His mouth was hanging slightly open, as if he were on the verge of racous laughter.

“Does it matter?” I was exasperated. I wanted him to just let me go.

“Yes. It does. You are leaving me for someone you say is your true love. I have a right to know.”

“Ivo, just let me go. I don’t want to be with you. Isn't that enough?? I don't want you!” I hated pleading but that was where this had brought us.

“She lives in Juneau?” He continued his line of questioning.

“No,” I said wearily. Did it really matter where she lived? I was too tired to be suspicious at that point.

“Where then?”

“Vancouver.” I don’t know why I told the truth. I guess because I felt if I lied my situation would get even worse, he’d catch me lying and trap me and I wouldn’t be able to get away.

“Vancouver,” he repeated smoothly and he looked positively evil to me then. I shivered in fear. For the first time, I was genuinely afraid of him. “And, pray, how are you going to get to Vancouver?”

I was stumped again. “You have my ticket -- ” I began to argue. He did have the tickets, all of them – to Seattle and San Francisco and Vancouver, all of the places we intended to go. But of course that was based on the assumption that I was traveling with him. Too late did I learn the dangers of allowing oneself to be financially dependent on another. “Ivo, you promised -- ” I sputtered angrily, realizing finally what he was doing.

“No, I promised nothing of the sort. I pay your way in all things as usual when you are with me. That is one of the many perks of having me as your lover. I wonder if your latest infatuation can provide you with as much. Or perhaps you intend to support her?” And he laughed again.

I hated him so much then. I wanted to rush at him and strike him, claw him until he bled, shove him off the cliff and watch him drown.

“So tell me all about your beloved Isabel,” he said coolly, leaning back against the jagged rock, making himself comfortable. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

I almost fell into the trap. I almost opened my mouth to say that she was good and pure and he had no right to bring his filthy habits to bear in a love like mine for her. But the name brought me back to reality with a nasty jolt.  He had said her name. Isabel.

“How -- ” I swallowed hard. How could he possibly have known about her? He had been on the boat. He had been no where near us. Had he come back when I was I with her? Had I said her name in my sleep? I hadn't slept in his presence since we left Juneau. “You spied on me!” I screamed, arriving at the logical conclusion, no longer caring who heard us. He’d done it before – in Warwick, when he travelled and worried that I would go out and fuck anything that moved. But the idea that he had had someone spy on me in Juneau was too much. It was a gross violation of my rights. Worse still was the growing fear that if he knew about Isabel, he could _would_ expose me to her. He'd follow me to Vancouver and tell her about what we had done together. That Isabel could learn of my sordid past...

“Oh, no,” his smile broadened, hateful and cold. “I wasn't spying on you. She was.”

“What?” I was lost in the exchange. He had the upper hand again, knowing something that I did not.

“Isabel spied on you,” he said sweetly. “Oh, didn’t she mention that? Probably not. She would have worried about your well-being. You have such a delicate ego. She’s my sister, you see. Married to Kit Winwood. Isabel Steadman-Winwood. I guess you never got around to that part of the conversation either, her being married. But we are twins. Surely you must have seen the resemblance. Everyone says we are just alike.”

When I was a child I once fell out of a very tall tree in a neighbor’s garden. No one was there to help me and I lay for what seemed like an eternity on the ground -- wounded, crippled, unable to breathe, very conscious of what was happening to me and completely unable to help myself. Standing across from Ivo now, that same feeling came back to me. I knew what he said was true but somehow I couldn’t accept it. It was impossible. And yet looking at him, I saw Isabel’s face and realized they were one and the same.

“She sent me a series of very amusing letters regarding your antics those two weeks. Ah, and yes, she did say you professed your love for her. She was quite embarrassed and asked how she should respond. I told her not to worry about it, that it was in character for you to imagine yourself in love with anyone who breathed and that it would pass soon enough. Still, it was quite an eye-opener for me. Would you like to read my sister's letters about you?” There was a mocking light in his eyes.

I felt the ground move beneath my feet. A dizzy disorienting, shell-shocked feeling overwhelmed me and I knew instinctively rather than consciously that I was about to pass out. I heard Ivo call my name as if from inside a very deep well, sensed that he was moving towards me. I couldn’t stand the thought of him touching me. I didn’t ever want to see him again. I didn't want to see anyone again. Isabel's betrayal -- and she had betrayed me as surely as if I had been the Christ and she Judas -- had wrenched my guts from me, leaving me hollow, empty of any emotion save one: despair. I couldn't breathe, couldn't find my footing. I knew I was lost. I had to escape while I still could. I did the only thing I could think of.

I turned and flung myself off the cliff.  Ivo's anguished cry followed me as I fell the long descent to the rocks and water and blackness below.


End file.
